Let Come What May
by SecretShadow3
Summary: 1917...The fates have turned their eyes upon their newest toy, young Edward Masen. His path is destined to be a strange one, just as the ghostly Annabel's was. Meanwhile in the future, Bella is making some strange discoveries herself.


Author's notes/disclaimer: Sorry it's been so long since I've updated anything…it's been a stressful summer and college isn't exactly leisurely. This story is completely random. I'm not even sure what will happen…oh well, we both find out together. Oh, and please don not flame this story; I haven't read very many Twilight fanfics, so I'm not sure what is considered cliché or not in this area. All rights belong to Stephanie Meyer Except for the lyrics below, which belong to Sinead O'Connor.

This story is told from the point of view of three sisters who call themselves the Fates. Not exactly like the ones from normal mythology, I realize. Mine are different. They spin a web of destiny, but only for certain individuals who have the potential to rise above the mundane. They are creatures who live off the impossible. Just as vampires need blood to live, these sisters need that which science cannot prove…things such as vampires, werewolves, ghosts, and other creatures that would typically exist only in the imagination. However, since the power of imagination grows weaker and weaker and logic grows stronger, they are forced to use their powers to weave the destinies of the humans against their will.

OOO

"

He spied one among them, she was fairer than any  
Her cheeks like the red rose that blooms in the spring  
Her hair like the lily that grows in yon valley  
She was only a hard working factory girl

Prologue

We live in a world of fancy, of unknown creatures and hidden intrigue. We are the fates- the three sisters, spinning, spinning all the while, turning dreams to nightmare, nightmare to dreams. We change the destiny of this world for our own purposes. It's a delicious game really- twining the paths of mortals; entangling them in our threads as though it were child's play. We take it upon ourselves to render logic useless for those we touch; to take all constants, all science, all factual evidence…and preserve our way of life; for if logic prevails, we, as the three weird sisters of myth, will come to an end. As creatures of the unknown realm, we would no longer exist. Now, as the age progresses, we grow weaker and long for the olden days in which myth ruled the people. But with what little power we still possess, the humans will never be entirely safe from their own stories….the stories conceived of their imagination and brought to life by our hands. Poor Bella…poor, poor Bella. How unfortunate for her to have been caught in our web...Or should we say, poor Evie? Ah, the delicious confusion it will cause! Come sisters…spin with us, for we shall not forget her soon. Oh no we shall not….

OOO

Chicago 1917 -Home of Edward Masen Sr.

"Gentlemen, please do have a seat tonight is my treat…There's a good man! Go ahead and drink up!" Ed Masen laughed gallantly and handed round the glasses of rich red wine. He was an attractive man for his age, tall, slim, neatly slicked-back hair; he wore his newest set of brown trousers- tailored for him personally of course. He lifted his glass high "I would like to express my thanks to my assistants, Harris and Woolworth for their timeless hours and to you all, my friends, for without your support, we wouldn't have had a chance in hell! Cheers!" Laughter sounded jovially throughout the rosy, wood-paneled lounge as the lawyer rang for the maid to bring more refreshments. "Going Edward?" He inquired as he caught sight of his copper-haired son making for the doorway.

"Well Father, it's just…"

Masen chuckled and patted his son on the back playfully. "I see. You just don't want to be around a bunch of old-timers. Why don't you go on a walk and get some fresh air? You've been too glum lately. So go on and-"

Edward smiled awkwardly and nodded, walking swiftly out the door.

Masen sighed "That boy can be so strange…Sometimes I think he sees right through everyone." he mused inaudibly.

"Hey Masen!" A hefty man who perpetually carried a handkerchief in his pocket for hay fever waved his hands excitedly. "Tell these fellows that story you told me the other day! You know, that one about this house! It's a real kicker!" He laughed gallingly and slapped his knee with a chubby hand. "Go on, tell 'em!"

"Why of course Mr. Haywood." Masen muttered with the slightest hint of annoyance. "But I doubt any of these fine fellows wish to hear of such a fanciful tale."

"C'mon Masen!" A colleague called out. A childlike curiosity swept through the room. Ed Masen's stories were not something to give up on lightly. As one of the best lawyers in Chicago, Mr. Masen had an uncanny ability with words, not to be missed by an imploring audience.

"Well, alright, if you insist." Masen sighed and reached for a match to light his pipe. "Gentlemen, the world is not what it seems." he paced back and forth with his hands behind his back. "There are beings here, born in the sphere of fantasy…I know not what these creatures may be, but I will tell you this…I Edward Masen, fear them. I do indeed dear fellows; These are the creatures of the unknown…the devils and angels of this world; contorted and unnatural, fallen from heaven and risen from hell, stranded upon this earth to feed of our fear; our very existence. You are probably, at this moment, doubting my truthfulness…well, doubt no more, for there is a force within this very house that creeps about with cold breath as my wife and son lay asleep. How many sleepless nights I have suffered, lying awake fearful of its baleful stare, its heart-stopping aura of fear…You may see her gentlemen. You may very well see the cursed apparition which haunts us." He paused to poke the fire, which roared back to life in the hearth. "Yes…a few more hours until she begins her unseen rounds…" He murmured.

"Who?" A Mr. C. Watson inquired.

Masen smiled grimly, throwing a cloud of concern over his audience. This was not like his normal animated anecdotes about how he played detective for one of his cases, or how he managed to win some case despite overwhelming odds. "_She_ will be making her rounds…listen closely gentlemen, if you wish to hear the story."

Watson crossed his arms sullenly and leaned back into his chair, annoyed that his question hadn't been answered directly.

"They say a certain Mr. and Mrs. Calhoun and their little daughter Annabel had a house built on this very spot after Mr. Calhoun was accused of killing his own uncle in order to receive the money in his will. They fled here; bringing only what could fit in their suitcases…primarily cash. Mrs. Calhoun was a cousin of his, and so naturally, their daughter was not as strong as most children and subject to various ailments that most healthy children would not normally succumb to so easily. But somehow, although the child had contracted nearly every disease imaginable, she would miraculously make a full recovery no matter how close to death she might have been. Rumors began to spread among the lower classes that Mrs. Calhoun had struck a deal with the devil to keep her daughter alive- she _was_ a very queer woman by all accounts, plagued by hallucinations and paranoia. Higher classes always assumed that she was simply feverish from having such a sickly child in her care. The truth was, no one really knew what the family was up to.

A few years went by, Annabel still had her curious ability, and Mr. and Mrs. Calhoun seemingly dropped out of society except to attend church; which is how the community found out that Annabel was bedstriken with influenza. This time, no one sent gifts or regards; no one comforted poor Mrs. Calhoun as she wept for her daughter's sake… Everyone knew that sooner or later she would make a full recovery. But no one ever found out if she would have or not. One night, after coming home from church, the Calhouns returned to find their daughter's bedroom up in flames. Both of them tried to save her, but the flames hemmed the girl solidly away from any direction, like pure walls of fire. Volunteer firemen said that when they looked into the child's bedroom, it appeared to be hell itself- nothing but solid flame stretching into darkness. But the really curious aspect of this fire was that it did not spread beyond her room despite the sheer magnitude of the flames. The Calhouns did not even bother to pack before they left the house.

Well, that house was torn down some time ago. This one was built in its place soon after by unknowing profiteers. I myself did not discover its history until I met Mr. J.C. Reynolds at the university library. But what provoked the conversation between us is the principle purpose for this story… Annabel." Here Masen pulled his pipe out from his pocket and lit it, puffing quietly as he contemplated for a moment before going on. The men leaned forward, urging him with their eyes like small children listening to a faerie tale.

"Even though the fire destroyed Annabel's body for good, even it did not kill her completely. She is still here, wandering about as though lost. You can't see her most of the time, or hear her, but you can always feel her presence if she is near." The men began subtly glancing about. Masen knew that there would be goose-bumps running up their spines now. "You always know if she's nearby." he continued. "First, you hear a ringing in your ears…then you feel cold all over your body…as she passes by, the slightest of winds blows past….and sometimes, if she's close enough, you can feel her icy breath…or the touch of an icy hand." He strolled behind Woolworth as he spoke and swept his fingers lightly over the man's neck. The man's face drained of all color.

"However, there have been times where I have seen her. And never have I experienced such fear in my life. All pale ghostly white in burnt tatters of what was once a lace nightgown; now hanging off her misshapen shoulders like a sling. Eyes…blacker than all the blackest nights…hair burnt to pale blonde frizz with blackened tips above the ears in grotesque patches….mouth and nose melted beyond recognition as though sliding off her very face…the first time I saw her was a few months ago; Edward had woken in the middle of the night and began playing the piano as he often does to calm himself. That is what woke me up to begin with. But as I rounded the corner into Edward's room, I saw her. She was standing there, watching him play. My voice stuck in my throat. My blood froze and I could not move one inch to warn him. Fortunately, he sensed me, as he often does, and as he turned to face me the apparition disappeared. Since then, I have forbid Edward to play the piano as she tends to appear when he plays. Poor boy…he really suffers from not being able to play it. He doesn't even seem to even mind the girl though."

"I do wonder why that is so…." a Mr. Rosenthal whispered the young doctor he had brought as his guest.

Dr. Cullen did not reply, but simply shrugged with a vague sense of amusement.

We could simply laugh at their ignorance as our web continued to grow. It would not be long now…

OOO

Edward was quite relieved (to put it lightly) to be away from his father's ever blustering colleagues. All they ever did was listening to what his father said. That's all anyone _he knew_ did. –Except for his mother of course. In her case it was the other way around.

He sighed, kicking a stray pebble into the gutter as he walked on. The factory bells were ringing. The streets would be flooded with workers soon. A pair of doves flew ahead, but Edward didn't take his eyes off the ground as he walked. A whirl of crimson struck his eye with a brilliant burst of color as he felt a little breeze rush by. He looked up from his feet to see a group of factory girls rush by giggling and chatting. One of them had bright red hair. She turned to smile at him and chatter amongst her companions as he stared. Her eyes were a vibrant dark blue like the sea, surrounded by white sand, as pale as her skin. In a moment, he was snagged in our web; never again would his life be normal. It was at this point in time, when Edward and Bella met for the first time in their lives.

Edward stepped up beside her so as to view her more closely. He knew he was being discourteous to walk so near a young lady, especially one he had never met before. He barely even noticed when a lilting voice in an Irish accent asked playfully, "Why are ye staring at me boy? And with your mouth open too! Like a fish!" She laughed and covered her mouth in shock of her own manners.

Edward felt himself blush, and saw that the girl was doing the same. "Pardon my rudeness Miss…" He trailed off in search of a name.

"Most call me Evie." she said delicately. "Well, that's what they call me at the factory anyways…they say my real name is too hard to spell...It's an old Irish name it is, but Evie is close to how it's said aloud." Her voice trailed off nervously and her eyes darted to the other girls for support. They simply tittered amongst themselves with no help to her. "That's my sister Brenda, and our friends, Grete, her sister Elsa, and my cousin Nancy." She added cordially. "Brenda's real smart. She knows how to read and everything. She's going to teach me how to soon!" She smiled at Edward.

"You can't read?" Edward asked bluntly and realized at once that he had hurt her feelings. "Forgive me but, don't you go to school?"

Evie ducked her head in shame. "My Ma and Da made me start workin' in the factory when I was thirteen…we didn't leave Ireland 'till I was almost twelve. I had about two months of public school, but I can't read more than my name. I had barely gotten the letters and sounds down before I had to help Ma with the little ones. "But I'm trying to learn all that I can now" She lifted her head up high and stared at him with a sort of defiant pride. "I've got enough Money now, so I'm quittin' my factory work soon and learnin' to read and speak full time so I can get a job as a shop girl or a governess for rich folks like yourself."

"Ah..." Was all Edward managed to say. It was awkward enough to stop and talk to a complete stranger in the streets, but something about this girl made him nervous. He wasn't quite sure what to say or do; and normally he knew _exactly_ what to say; it was as though he could tell precisely what others around him were thinking. But there was something utterly _baffling_ about Evie, and whatever it was intrigued him.

OOO

Let us now jump into the future…

Bella glanced nervously at the beautiful, pale, copper-haired boy sitting next to her. She held her breath, trying to make it seem as though she were ignoring his incessant stare. But she couldn't help just glancing now and then. "Why is he staring at me?" She wondered to herself. A strange feeling of familiarity washed over her for just an instant. "Huh…deja-vu." She laughed silently to herself and continued with her work; but not before one quick last look at the pale boy.

At last, the fun could begin again! Come sisters! Join us for a stir! Let us cause a row among mortals whilst we can! A last hurrah for a dying day…The three weird sisters, the Norns, Moirae, Parcae, the Fates, the past, present, and future, we shall have our way with you all…beware our web or brave the strangeness of its consequences.

OOO

Author's notes: So how was it? Weird I know. But I kind of like it being a mythology buff. Keep in mind I haven't written in a looooong time.

REVIEW PLEASE : )


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